


I Wanna Let Go And Know That I'll Be Alright

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, He gets better, Post S5A, Sort Of, and he actually goes, bad scott, i guess, i think, pre-shlash, scott kicks stiles out of the pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 03:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Scott tells Stiles to 'take a step back' from pack life, Stiles takes it as an invitation to get his life back on track - sans the supernatural.





	I Wanna Let Go And Know That I'll Be Alright

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been sitting in my drafts folder since S5A aired all those years ago. A dozen people told me not to post it, so I sat on it. But I got a new laptop and came across this again and I just want it out of my head. So here it is, for better or worse.
> 
> It's not exactly a Scott bashing fic, but he doesn't come across in the best light for a lot of it. 
> 
> Pre-Slash, because I couldn't make it work any other way and end it like I wanted to.
> 
> Title from 'Car Crash' by Matt Nathanson.

“Maybe...maybe you should take a step back from...from everything.”

Whatever Stiles was going to say falls right out of his head as he stares at Scott, aghast.

He'd gone over to Scott's to apologize, to explain, to make sure that Scott was completely aware of everything that happened that night in the library. With Donovan. 

Instead, Scott had met him on the porch, kept him outside and said...and said _that._

“You're...you're kicking me out of the pack?!” he exclaims.

Scott shakes his head with a sigh. “No, not...well, maybe? Temporarily, maybe? I don't know, Stiles. I just think that, maybe, you need a break from all of this. Especially after everything that happened with Donovan.”

“No, Scott, wait, what happened with Donovan, it's not what you think. It didn't happen the way Theo told you and if you'll just listen to me for two seconds and let me explain-”

Scott holds up his hand, cutting off the flow of words. “I know what you think happened, Stiles, I know you think you did the right thing, but I can't...” He sighs again.

“So I should have just stood there and let Donovan kill me?” Stiles feels his anger bubble while Scott just blinks at him.

“What? Stiles, that's-”

“No, I get it, Scott, I totally get it. It's this True Alpha bullshit, right? You live in a black and white world, but guess what, Scott? The world isn't black and white. The world is gray; it's a shit load of gray and nothing else. And that night in the library? It was him or me and I am _so sorry_ that I chose me.”

“Stiles, of course you should have chosen yourself, I would have chosen you as well, you know I would.” Scott runs a hand over his face. “I just...maybe there was another way.”

“You think I wanted to kill him? You think I wanted to stand there and watch him die? There was no other way, Scott, and if you just took your head out of Theo's ass for five seconds, maybe you would be able to understand that.”

Scott's face hardens, but Stiles just backs away.

“I don't understand why you're so against Theo, Stiles. What did he ever do to you? To any of us?”

Stiles spreads his arms wide as he walks backwards down the path towards his Jeep. “Why don't you come back to me in a couple months and see if you can answer that question yourself.”

“Stiles, wait,” Scott calls. “Stiles!”

But Stiles ignores him, turning his back on his oldest friend and fishing his keys out of his pocket and tries to ignore the tears stinging at the corner of his eyes.

Whatever the hell is going on with Scott and Theo and the Dread Doctors...

It's not Stiles' problem any more.

  
  


  
  


Stiles' dad is sitting in the living room reading the paper when Stiles finally makes it home. 

He'd driven around for hours, rethinking everything that had happened since the night of Senior Scribe, every second since Theo Ranken came into their lives.

He's still not sure how he could have prevented any of it from happening. Except now he doesn't really know where to go from here, so he just stands in the middle of the living room, unsure as to what his next step should be.

“Stiles?” Noah calls, craning his neck to look over the back of the couch when Stiles doesn't move. “Everything okay?”

Stiles starts at the sound of his father's voice. His father, the Sheriff. He shuffles into the room, wringing his hands together. “Um...I think...I think I have to tell you something.”

Noah closes the newspaper and sets it on the coffee table. “Does this have something to with that bullshit story Theo Raeken told me about Donovan Donati?”

Stiles feels his heart leap into his throat. “Theo...Theo told you something?” He falls down onto the couch as Noah nods.

“Told me Donovan tried to kill him, in the library. That night we had the anonymous 9-1-1 call? Said Donovan chased him up some scaffolding and he pulled the pin. Donovan fell and was impaled.”

Stiles nods, suddenly confused. Why would Theo tell his dad that? What's the point? What is Theo going to get out of it?

“Why...why would he tell you something like that? And why don't you believe him?”

Noah smiles. “That boy may be a lot of things, Stiles, but he's not an actor. I know when someone's lying to me.” Stiles nods and Noah narrows his eyes at his son. “But he wasn't lying about everything, was he?”

“They...the Dread Doctors, they did something to Donovan, changed him, and I guess he decided to come after me.”

“He tried to kill you?”

Stiles pulls down the shoulder of his shirt to reveal his shoulder and the scar Donovan left behind.

“I fell asleep at the library, the others went home and left me there. The Jeep crapped out in the parking lot, again, and Donovan came up behind me. I hit him with a wrench and made a run for the library. I think everything else happened pretty much the same way Theo said.”

“You made the 9-1-1 call?” Stiles nods. “There was nothing there when the officer showed up.”

“Parrish. It's part of his Hell hound thing. He deals with things like that, so that the supernatural won't be exposed.”

Noah blinks at him. “Well, let's circle back to that later.” He sighs. “I'm not gonna say you did the right thing, son, but I certainly don't blame you for what happened. You did the only thing you could. It was an accident.”

Stiles snorts. “Tell that to Scott.”

The Sheriff frowns. “What?”

“I guess Theo spun Scott some sort of bullshit story as well, but instead of the version he fed you, he told Scott that I killed Donovan in cold blood. I don't even know if Scott knows that Donovan was taken by the Dread Doctors.”

“And Scott just...believes him?”

Stiles shrugs. “I guess Theo is just a really good liar. Depending on who he's talking to.”

“Why? I mean, what's Theo getting out of all this? What's his goal?”

“I don't know. My guess is that he wants Scott's powers, but he can't go after it directly. But who cares? It's not my problem anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Scott told me I should 'take a step back' from all things pack related. In other words, he trusts Theo more than than he trusts me and he doesn't want me around anymore.”

Noah's face hardens. “He said what? That little...how could he do that to you? You boys have been friends your whole lives. I'll kill him.” He starts to get to his feet, but Stiles puts a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“It's fine, Dad, it's...it's whatever. It's over, done, I'm out of the pack, out of all this shit. For good.”

“Well, you still live in Beacon Hills, so I don't know if you'll ever be completely out of it, but I'm not gonna lie and tell you that I won't sleep better knowing that you're not out there saving the world with Scott and the girls.”

Stiles smiles. “Graduation isn't that far away. I'm...I know my grades have slipped a little since all this shit started, but I could probably still get into a decent college that isn't in Northern California.”

Noah frowned. “I thought your plan was to go to Beacon Hills Community College for your required classes and then head to Berkeley?”

“Yeah, well, not much point in that anymore, now that I don't have a pack. I can...I can pretty much go wherever I want.”

Noah nods. “As far away from this hellmouth as physically possible. If I didn't know you'd kill each other within a week, I'd suggest you move to London and live with Jackson.”

Stiles laughs loudly. “God, no. I don't even know if Jackson's spoken to anyone since he left. Even Lydia. He was pretty messed up after everything.”

“Well, I guess Boston or Pennsylvania would work, too.”

“Boston's probably out. Lydia's probably gonna end up at MIT, genius that she is. Either that, or Cal-Tech.”

“What about Lydia and Malia? Surely they don't agree with what Scott's done?”

“I don't know, Dad. But Malia, Kira, Liam, they all feel the pack bond more than I do, Scott's word might just be enough for them to agree with whatever he says.” He shrugs. “I'm human, I'm nothing, no one. Even Lydia has a stronger tie to the pack than I do.”

“So, you're just gonna leave?”

“If Scott takes the word of a sociopath over me, then I don't wanna be around him. He doesn't deserve to have me as part of his life.”

“I think that's the most sensible thing I've heard you say since all of this started.”

Stiles mocks offense. “Excuse me, I'm brilliant.”

Noah ruffles his son's hair. “I know you are.” He takes a deep breath. “So, what's the plan?”

“Focus on school, get my grades up, apply for as many scholarships and financial aid packages as possible and just...go.”

Noah nods, but he looks sad and Stiles suddenly realizes what his leaving with mean for his father. “Dad.”

“I'm not gonna put my name forward for re-election,” he says suddenly, like he's just come to the decision.

“Dad-”

“No, I...we have to put ourselves first now, Stiles. Stilinskis before anyone else. I won't stand for Sheriff again. I don't have that long left on my term and until then, we can spend the holidays wherever you end up. And when my term's up, we can both put Beacon Hill's in our rear view.” He blushes, pauses. “I mean, that is if...if you're okay with your old man tagging along. I know that most kids, when they go to college, it's to escape their parents. But I always thought that we had a different kind of relationship.”

“We do, Dad, of course we do, and you know I'd be psyched if you wanted to move with me. But...you'd really move? I mean, this is Mom's house, all her stuff is here, _she's_ here. You'd really leave her behind just to be near me?”

“And to minimize the risk of being torn apart by some supernatural creature. Or worse, Peter Hale.” He flashes Stiles a smile. “And as for your mom, she isn't in this house, Stiles. She's wherever you are. Yeah, it'll be hard for a while, thinking of some other family living in the house you grew up in. But that's how life works. We grow up, move on. Take the next step.”

Stiles blows out a breath and nods his head. 

“The real question is, are you gonna be okay leaving Scott and Lydia and Malia behind?”

Stiles takes a second to think about it, to think about leaving and never seeing Scott or Malia again.

“It'll be hard, I'm not gonna lie. He's Scott, you know? We've been Scott and Stiles for so long and for most of that time, it was just the two of us against the world. And then Peter Hale came along and screwed us up. And yeah, I know, it was technically my fault, I just had to go out and find the body in the woods. But everything changed after that. I changed, too, I know that, but Scott...he's practically unrecognizable to that asthmatic little lightweight he was.”

The Sheriff snorts. “I sure as hell should have figured something was going on a lot sooner when Scott stop having attacks just from walking down the stairs.”

“I doubt your first guess would have been werewolves.”

“Probably not.”

They laugh, a little hysterically, until the Sheriff sobers and pins Stiles with a look.

“So, this is the plan?”

Stiles nods, resolute. “This is the plan.”

  
  


  
  


Stiles throws himself into his school work like a man possessed. He manages to get caught up on all the work he's missed or set aside to deal with the Dread Doctors or whatever monster of the week was wreaking havoc when the assignment was handed out. He asks for extra credit in the classes where his grades had slipped a little too far, and with all his free time, he had no problem getting the assignments completed.

With no research needing to be done, no pack meetings to attend or disasters to avert, Stiles was able to pull his grades back up to something resembling decent in just a short while, and he couldn't keep the smile off his face when his English teacher gave him back his paper on _Of Mice and Men_ with the huge red A+ in the top right hand corner.

Even with everything that was going on with her, Lydia was probably still going to end up as their Valedictorian at the end of the year, but maybe Stiles would be able to give her a run for her money now.

Speaking of the pack, it's getting increasingly difficult to ignore the pitying looks they keep sending his way every time they cross paths in the hallways. It's mostly Liam and Mason, Hayden looking on like she's constipated, but still, the whole thing is annoying. Stiles sits at the back of the classes he shares with them – which is mostly Lydia at this points – and he eats his lunch on the benches outside, even when it's so cold that he swears his fingers are going to turn blue at any moment.

He's sitting there now with his history text book open on the table in front of him as he studies for a quiz next period when a shadow falls over him.

Stiles sighs, but he doesn't say anything, just continues to shovel forkfuls of pasta salad into his mouth as he reads. That's another thing that's changed since he's left the pack. Less time looking up things that go bump in the night means Stiles has more time to spend on making decent meals for himself and his father. So it's not curly fries, but his digestive system is definitely thankful for some healthy food.

“I have to say, Stiles, this is starting to look a little pathetic.”

Stiles sighs again, louder this time, but he still doesn't look up. “What do you want, Theo?” He can practically hear the smirk as Theo sits down next to him, straddling the bench like a douche bag, and he suppresses a shiver.

“You know, this really wasn't what I expected to happen when Scott finally kicked you out of the pack. I'm a little disappointed.”

“What? Was I supposed to cry and beg him to take me back?” Stiles spits, finally looking up.

Theo shakes his head. “No, I expected you to rant and rage and get your revenge and do whatever it took to take Scott down. I was counting on the re-emergence of Void!Stiles.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You seem to be a little confused about the whole 'Void!Stiles' thing, as you like to call it. That wasn't me. I was possessed by an ancient Japanese Fox Demon. It took control of my body and it was responsible for everything you've apparently heard.” He narrows his eyes at the wannabe werewolf. “Do you really think that if I was responsible for the deaths of all those people, never mind the love of Scott's life, that Scott would really take me back like nothing had changed? Like I was innocent?”

Theo grins, but Stiles can still see the surprise and confusion he's trying to mask. “Come on, Stiles, we both know Scott isn't the sharpest crayon in the box.”

Stiles snorts. “Pot, meet kettle.”

A muscle ticks in Theo's jaw, like he's trying to control his anger. “Look, I'm gonna cut to the chase.”

“Thank God. I really have to study for this history test.” His grades might be better, but he'd like to keep them that way.

“I want you in my pack, Stiles.” Theo says this reverently, like he's offering Stiles something wonderful and amazing. “It's why I'm here after all, to take Scott's pack from him. With you on board, it's gonna be a lot easier to get the rest of them. Plus,” he shrugs, “think of the look on Scott's face when you choose me as your Alpha over him. Won't that be sweet? After he turned his back on you?”

Stiles gapes at him. “Are you...holy shit, you're serious, aren't you?”

“Of course I'm serious, why wouldn't I want someone as ruthless and skilled as you in my pack?”

Stiles can't help it, he laughs loudly, right in Theo's face, causing the werewolf to reel back. “Why the hell would I wanna do that? Why the hell would I wanna join another pack when I finally got out of this one and got my life back after all this time? Are you stupid? I'm free! Like hell would I wanna get sucked back in, and I sure as hell don't want to be part of your fucked up pack.”

Theo snarls and charges forward, but Stiles is fast – and doesn't that say a lot for Theo's so-called werewolf reflexes? – and he presses a blade against the pulse point of the werewolf's throat.

“Yeah, I'm out, Theo, but I'm not stupid. This is Beacon Hill's, remember?”

Theo flashes his eyes – still yellow. “You don't have the balls. Daddy'll never forgive you.”

Stiles smiles, cold and calculating. “That's where you're wrong, Theo. My dad knows everything. He's also the Sheriff. I'm pretty sure he can cover up anything when it comes to his son. He did it with Donovan, after all, and that was before you tried to mess with his head.”

Theo pushes away from Stiles, blood dripping from a small cut to the skin of his throat. “This isn't over, Stiles,” he says as she gets to his feet, pointing a finger that Stiles can't help but notice is trembling slightly. “I know what I want and I always get what I want.”

“Spoiled brat,” Stiles mutters and turns back to his textbook as Theo walks away.

He just has time to read the rest of his current chapter before the warning bell rings and he's forced to stuff everything back into his backpack. He heads back into the building, his mind racing as he goes over facts and dates in preparation for his test, when someone steps in front of him, blocking his path. The knife, that Stiles had put away after Theo's departure, slides free of the sheath on his wrist again, but then Stiles looks up. Malia stands in front of him, her eyes roving all over him and he puts the knife away with a roll of his eyes.

“What do you want, Malia?”

Stiles had been right when he'd told his father that the pack bonds would mean more to Malia than any other relationship. She hasn't spoken or even really looked at Stiles since she picked him up after his Jeep broke down. Every time he's seen her since, she's been glued to Scott.

Stiles hates the fact that they never really got to talk about their breakup or what it meant for their non-romantic relationship, and from the look on Malia's face, it doesn't look like they're going to have that conversation any time soon.

“You smell like Theo,” she blurts out, her tone sharp. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, he just wanted to have a friendly chat. I repeat, what do you want?”

She finally meets his eyes. “You've been gone for a while. Are you better?”

Stiles frowns. “Better? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Scott said you were taking a break to get better, because you weren't yourself, weren't dealing with what you...with what happened.”

“Scott's full of shit,” Stiles says and he steps around her.

He's not surprised when she falls into step beside him, even though he knows that her next class – geography – is on the other side of the building. “Because, if you're better, then you could come back and help us, help us stop the Dread Doctors,” she says, like he never even spoke at all.

Stiles whirls on her, causing her to skid to a stop in the middle of the hallway, other kids cursing them out as they swerve around them. 

“Scott kicked me out of the pack, Malia. He was the one who decided I needed to step back or whatever bullshit he fed you. So I'm done. I'm out, there will be no more Stiles running to the rescue because the rest of you are too stupid to figure things out for yourselves. I'm done with all of you.”

“You...you don't want to be part of the pack anymore?” Malia asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “Didn't you hear what I just said? _Scott_ doesn't want me to be part of the pack anymore. I'm just following his orders.”

“But if you tell Scott that you're okay now, that you want to come back, I know he'll let you. He was really worried about you.”

“I don't want to come back!” Stiles yells. “You hear that, Scott?! I know you're listening into this little conversation. You win, I'm done. I sever all ties to your poor excuse of a pack. Are you happy? We're finished. All of us.”

“Stiles,” Malia whispers, but Stiles just throws his hands into the air, turns and walks away.

  
  


  
  


Stiles finds out about Theo hurting Lydia by overhearing Liam and Mason talking in the library. Scott really isn't teaching his beta the full extent of his abilities if he can't even sense Stiles nearby.

Stiles wishes he could be surprised at Scott's – and everyone else's – complete surprise at Theo finally showing his true colors, but he's just...sad, that no one listened to him when he insisted that Theo was a bad guy.

He packs up his stuff and leaves.

  
  


  
  


The Sheriff calls in every favor he has and uses ever trick in his sizable book to get him and Stiles in to see Lydia.

And it's a really good thing that they show up when they do because there's that creepy Valack guy leaning over Lydia in a way that's really not making Stiles feel entirely comfortable.

“Hey,” the Sheriff starts, his hand going for the gun they made him take off at the front desk. He rests his hand on his gun belt anyway.

Valack backs away from the teenage girl lying prone on a bed anyway and spins around to face them.

“This is a private medical procedure,” Valack says, his voice quaking just a little. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you both to leave.”

“I'm pretty sure Mrs. Martin didn't put her daughter in here so that she can be experimented on by the other patients,” Stiles says calmly and puts himself between his former crush and the psychopath.

“You have no idea what's going on here,” Valack warns, his voice threatening.

“Nor do I want to know,” Noah says before Stiles has a chance to respond. “All I do know is that you are not permitted to be anywhere near this girl, so I'm going to have to ask you to come with me.”

“You're making a mistake, Sheriff,” Valack says, but Stiles can see him shuffling towards the door anyway, like he knows he can't take them both at once.

As soon as he's close enough, Noah grabs Valack by the arm and pulls him out of the room. He throws a look at Stiles, who nods, before he starts to drag the other man down the corridor and towards the front of the building.

And now Stiles is left alone with Lydia and that's...that's not really what he wanted. At all.

Finally getting a close look at her, Stiles can see that Lydia is in some sort of waking coma. Her eyes are wide and unblinking as she stares at the ceiling. There's blood on the pillow beneath her head and as Stiles moves a strand of her strawberry blonde hair, he can see that a patch of her head has been shaved.

He suddenly wants to throw up.

“Lydia,” he whispers, kneeling down next to her bed. “Lydia, can you hear me? You have to listen to me, okay?”

“Stiles?” she mumbles, her lips barely moving. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm here to tell you that you need to wake up. Scott needs you. Whatever this thing is that he's facing, he's going to need your help.”

“You got out,” she whispers and Stiles nods.

“Scott kicked me out of the pack, yeah, which is why he's going to need the rest of you. All of you. So that means that you've gotta pull yourself together and get out of this damn place.”

“He's waiting for you.”

Stiles looks over his shoulder, expecting to see his dad, but the doorway's empty and he turns back to his friend with a frown.

“You have to go to him. It'll all be okay for you if you go.”

Stiles knows better than to question Lydia, so he presses a kiss to her temple and gets to his feet. He turns back to her when he reaches the door, but she hasn't moved an inch.

“Wake up, Lydia!” he says to her loudly, his voice full of force.

Then he turns and leaves the room.

Once he's outside and has his phone back, Stiles pulls up his contacts while he waits for his dad to finish whatever it is he's doing with Valack. It seems to involved Parrish and his partner coming to take Valack to the station.

His phone has been relatively quiet the last few months, nothing more than calls from his dad and texts from people at school he's been partnered with for one project or another. 

He scrolls down until he reaches the 'M's' and then his thumb hovered over the three names listed there. One name, he doesn't really want to call, a second wouldn't be that much help, really, or it would probably take too long for her to get the info to the right people. So Stiles hits the third name and waits for what feels like an age before his call is answered.

“ _Um, Stiles?”_ Mason says hesitatingly. _“What...um...how are you?”_

“This isn't a social call, Mason,” Stiles says sharply, cutting Mason off before things get awkward.

Even more awkward, anyway.

“ _Oh, are you...are you looking for Scott? He's not here, I mean, I'm in my room, Liam and I are studying for our biology midterm and I haven't seen Scott since school today. He said to leave you alone while you got better, but if something's changed, I could probably-”_

“I'm out of the pack, Mason, I'm not sick.”

“ _Like..out, out?”_

“Why don't you ask Scott what that means, okay?” Stiles snaps. “Listen, I don't have time for this. My dad and I went to visit Lydia today. We found her being tortured by Valack. You guys need to do whatever you can to get her out of Eichen.”

“ _Who's Valack?”_ Mason asks, and Stiles suddenly remembers that Mason hasn't actually been involved in this shit for all that long.

Maybe Malia or Melissa would have been a better choice after all.

“He's someone we've crossed paths with before. Scott will know what you're talking about.”

He can almost hear Mason nodding his head. _“Okay, but why don't you just tell Scott yourself?”_

Stiles sighs loudly. “What did I just say?”

“ _Well, I just mean that we could probably use some help, you know? If this Valack guy is really bad enough that you want me to pass on messages to Scott, Scott would probably appreciate you coming back to help.”_

“I'm not needed, nor am I wanted by certain people in that pack, okay? You're on your own.”

He hangs up without another word and leans against the cruiser to wait for his dad.

The Sheriff comes out a few minutes later, shaking his head as he puts his gun back in its holster. 

“I wish I had some sort of way to shut this place down. One day, I might just end up burning the place to the ground, patients, staff and everything.”

Stiles shrugs as he climbs into the front seat of the car now that it's unlocked. “Let's make sure Lydia's out of there first, then maybe we can try and track down Kate Argent. She can give us some tips.”

Noah sighs. “The people that run that place aren't fit to run a zoo. No one's getting the help they need in there.”

Stiles claps him on the shoulder. “Nothing you can really do about it, though, right? And besides, they might not be the greatest mental health professionals in the world, but there are... _beings_ in that place that aren't safe out on the street. Keeping them in Eichen House is the best we can do. At least they can keep the dangerous people locked up.”

Stiles' thoughts flit to Peter Hale, one of those dangerous people locked up in the basement of that building. Having him back on the streets, it doesn't bare thinking about.

The Sheriff sighs again, sounding weary down to his soul. “I hate it when you're right.”

Stiles grins tights and watches in the side mirror as they drive away from Lydia.

  
  


  
  


Three days later, Stiles is studying in his room when he hears it, a scream piercing the night air. 

He knows that, if he was of any sort of supernatural persuasion, the scream probably would have left him clutching at his head in agony. 

As it is, he can barely make out the sound through his open bedroom window, but it still makes him smile, because he knows that Lydia is safe. 

He goes back to his homework.

  
  


  
  


Stiles gave up lacrosse when this whole thing started – or stopped, really. He couldn't stand the idea of seeing Scott, Kira and Liam at every practice and game, never mind the rest of the pack in the bleachers, and having to play nice, like everything isn't completely fucked up.

And so he doesn't hear about what's happening at the charity game with Devenford Prep until his dad comes racing down the stairs, trying to talk on the phone and buckle his belt at the same time.

“I don't care what plans you had tonight, get everyone to the high school _now_!”

Stiles jumps to his feet. “Dad? Dad, what the hell is going on?”

Noah just waves a hand at him, his attention on the phone call. “Call the hospital and put them on alert, we could be looking at some serious injuries.” The TV makes some sort of noise, drawing Noah's attention and a hard look settles over his face. “And for God's sake, make sure those damn cameras aren't reporting this live.” He hangs up without another word and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Dad, what's going on?” Stiles repeats.

The Sheriff looks up, startled, like he'd forgotten Stiles was even there. “There's been an attack at the school, the lacrosse game. Some sort of huge animal according to the multiple 9-1-1 calls.”

Stiles blanches. “The Beast? It... they actually did it?”

“I don't know, Stiles. All I do know is that something is going on down there and I have to go.”

“Call me,” Stiles starts as he follows his dad to the door. “I want to know you're safe. And...and...” he trails off, unable to say the actual words.

“I'm sure they're fine, but I'll let you know,” Noah promises. “I have to go.”

Helpless, Stiles stands on the porch and watches as his dad drives away, remembering the last big crisis, when he would have been wading into the battle right along side him.

  
  


  
  


He can't concentrate on anything.

He paces the length of the living room, chewing on his thumbnail, his phone clenched in his fist.

The news just keeps repeating the attack, no details, no hints as to what kind of animal they think is responsible. Stiles knows they're probably going to go with a mountain lion, because a huge, mythical werewolf beast creature with no basis in actual reality won't even enter their minds. But who knows, maybe his father will try to be a little bit more adventurous this time around and suggest something else.

Maybe a tiger.

Two solid hours after the Sheriff left, he calls and Stiles fumbles with his phone before he manages to answer. “Dad! Dad What? What happened? What's going on?”

“ _Everyone's fine,”_ Noah starts. _“Well, Kira had a bit of a...but they're all good.”_

That gives Stiles pause for half a second, because he honestly hadn't realized she was even back in town, which isn't surprising, the lengths he goes to to try and avoid the pack on a daily basis.

“And the...the animal?”

The Sheriff sighs. _“Scott says it was the Beast. He says he knows who it is now, though, so at least we can hope that it'll be over soon.”_

Stiles takes a deep breath, the first in what feels like days. “And no one was killed, right?”

“ _A few serious injuries, but nothing fatal. Thank God,”_ Noah reports and Stiles nods to himself.

“Okay, okay. That's good.”

“ _I'm gonna have to hang around here for a bit, talk to the staff and take statements. You gonna be okay for a while?”_

“Yeah, I have some homework to do and then I think I'm gonna try and just crash, have an early night.”

It's still something he doesn't take for granted, the ability to so to bed anytime he wants without there being any sort of research that needs done or bad guy that needs to be hunted down.

Stiles has never been so well rested in his entire life.

Maybe there are advantages to not being part of a pack.

  
  


  
  


“Stiles, you have a visitor,” Noah says from the doorway to Stiles' room a few days later. His voice his high with surprised, strained, like he doesn't know what to do in the situation.

Stiles doesn't look away from the screen of his laptop. He's deep in a _Person of Interest_ binge and he's not looking to be interrupted. “Tell Scott I don't want to see him.”

He's been expecting this, for Scott to come creeping around, begging Stiles for help, expecting Stiles to just roll over and come back to the pack like nothing had happened.

But Stiles is enjoying life on the outside, and getting a huge kick out of the prison metaphors he keeps coming up with to explain away his time as Scott's research monkey. He's easily amused.

“It's, uh...it's not Scott.”

Something clenches in Stiles' gut, and he recognizes it belatedly as disappointment. He's _disappointed_ that Scott has kept to his word and continues to push Stiles away. As happy as he is to be done with the whole supernatural war, he's still a person who wants to feel valued and wanted by his peers.

“It's not anyone from the pack, actually.” Stiles turns to look at his father and frowns at the confusion on his face. “At least, I don't think she's part of the pack?”

“Uh...what?”

There's a loud sigh and Braeden pushes her way past the Sheriff and into Stiles' room. “I'm not part of the pack,” she says as she takes a seat in Stiles' desk chair.

Stiles has a moment of panic as he scrambles to sit up, looking around his room wildly. He hasn't exactly been keeping up with the housework since his friends stopped coming around. 

Apart from a few piles of dirty laundry, he thinks he's okay, and he stares at Braeden with raised eyebrows.

“Uh...can I help you?” He looks back at the door for help, but his dad has disappeared back to whatever he'd been, so Stiles is on his own.

“Malia told me what happened with Scott.” Braeden certainly doesn't pull her punches and Stiles winces slightly.

“Yeah, wasn't exactly my finest moment.”

“Or his, from what Malia says. He's kind of a black and white guy, isn't he?”

Stiles shrugs. “Comes with being a True Alpha, I guess.”

Braeden rolls her eyes. “Hope I'm around when that bubble bursts.”

“Can I help you with something?” Stiles repeats, honestly confused.

“I just wanted to make sure you're okay,” she says, tossing her cellphone from one hand to the other. “You and Scott were pretty tight, from what I could see. You and Malia, too.”

“Yeah, well, she chose her side. Or Scott chose it for her, I guess. I don't really know what goes on with werewolf-werecoyote pack dynamics. Maybe he has the power to order her to stay away from me. All of them.”

Braeden smiles. “Us humans can sympathize and play at being part of a pack, but we'll never really understand it on that level, you know?”

Stiles snorts. “Understatement.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were dealing with what happened.” She gives him a sad sort of smile. “I know what it's like to take a life, Stiles. I know what that can do to a person.”

Stiles lets out a shaky breath. “What do you know?”

“Not much, honestly, just that you killed some kid called Donovan, but Malia doesn't think it was in cold blood. Unlike Scott.”

“To be fair, I don't think Scott thinks I sniped the guy or poisoned him with wolfsbane or anything. He just thinks it could have been avoided.”

“And could it?”

Stiles closes his eyes and thinks about that night, remembers feeling Donovan's breath on the back of his neck, his hand around Stiles' ankle, the pain of the bite on his shoulder.

“No,” he answers truthfully. “He was gonna kill me. He wanted me dead.”

Braeden nods, like that was the answer she was looking for, like she knows Stiles isn't capable of cold blooded murder. It makes something in Stiles spark brightly.

“They know who the Beast is,” Braeden says suddenly and Stiles blinks.

“What, seriously?”

She nods. “Mason.”

Stiles gapes. “Are you for real? How? He wasn't a chimera, we talked to him!”

“He had a twin, in vitro. He absorbed it.”

Stiles shudders. “That's just creepy.”

“Malia said the same thing.”

Stiles can't suppress a smile. They always did have a similar sense of humor. “Do they know how to stop it?” He can't help himself, he needs to know they have this under control. The idea of losing Mason doesn't sit well with him.

“They're working on it. They have ideas,” she tells him quietly, like she knows he wants to get involved, to help, but knowing that he's holding himself back, so she's with holding information in respect to his decision.

Stiles doesn't know whether to love her or hate her.

“At least now you know that it'll all be over soon, so things can get back to normal with you and the pack. You know? Once Scott gets his head out of his ass and remembers that you're on his side and he needs you.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says slowly, averting his eyes back to his laptop, and the paused image of Root frozen there.

“Is that not something you want? To be part of the pack again, once Scott has had time to calm down and actually listen?”

Stiles shakes his head minutely. Truthfully, he's happy as he is. Yeah, he doesn't have any friends, not ones that don't live in his computer anyway, but seriously, who needs friends? College isn't that far away, and by then, he'll have all the time in the world to make as many friends as he wants. He can make all the friends, he'll have the best social life of all of them.

“You have to do what's best for you,” Braeden says suddenly, leaning closer to him. “Don't make this decision on whether or not you think Scott would be able to cope without you.”

It's like she's reading his mind and Stiles can only give her a shallow nod as she looks at him with an unreadable expression.

She glances down at her phone and nods. “Anyway, I just came here to make sure you were okay and to keep you updated. I know you don't like to be out of the loop.”

That's a weird thing for her to say, Stiles thinks, considering that this is the first conversation the two of the have actually had, but he chalks it up to that bounty hunter mentality she has and leaves it at that.

She pounds her fist on Stiles' desk, her eyes skimming over the piles of textbooks and binders stacked on it. “Take care of yourself, Stiles. And remember...you have other people who care about you.”

He thinks she's talking about herself, which, again, is weird, but he doesn't say anything and instead watches her leave, and air of confusion about the whole interaction hanging over him.

It takes a while for him to be able to concentrate on his binge watch again, but after restarting the same episode twice, he gets there, and he's deep into the season two finale when a soft chime from the direction of his desk startles him. He turns to look and spots Braeden's cellphone propped against his chemistry textbook.

“Dammit,” he mumbles to himself. He doesn't know where Braeden is staying, the only way he knows to get in touch with her would be to call Malia or one of the other pack members, something he really doesn't want to do.

With a sigh, he sets his laptop aside and gets up from the bed and picks up from the phone. There's a text message flashing on the screen.

_**'Are you okay?'** _

The contact says 'W' and Stiles knows it's not one of his friends, and he wonders what's going on with Braeden that someone seems so concerned about her.

Shrugging, Stiles heads back to his bed and sets the phone next to his own, resolving to track down someone at school the next day and ask them to return it. 

A few minutes later, the phone chirps again. Stiles tries not to look, it's not his phone and what he's doing amounts to invasion of privacy. His dad would have his head if he knew Stiles was reading someone else's messages.

But curiosity gets the better of him and he picks up the phone.

The sender is the same as before, 'W', but the message is slightly different.

_**'Stiles, I'm talking to you. Are you okay?'** _

“What the hell?” he mumbles, starting between this phone and his own, trying to make sure he isn't losing his mind.

But no, that's his phone sitting in the cubby of his bed, the Batman wallpaper shiny brightly when he unlocks it. 

Which means that whoever is trying to talk to Stiles using this phone knows that Braeden left it behind. Which means she left it behind on purpose, which means she planned this. Her only reason for coming to see Stiles was just to drop this phone off for whoever is on the other end of these text messages.

Stiles isn't stupid.

Braeden only left town with one person.

  


But that...that person wouldn't be worried about Stiles, would they?

Stiles doesn't know that many people who left Beacon Hills voluntarily. Isaac, Ethan, Jackson, Cora, Danny, but none of those, despite everything they've been through together, would concern themselves with Stiles' well-being.

The person who left Mexico sitting shotgun in Braeden's car? 

Yeah, that bleeding heart would definitely be worried about Stiles if Braeden told him everything that had been happening lately.

Stiles stares at the phone for a few long minutes, trying to figure out how to answer that question. 

_**'No,'**_ he sends, simple and to the point and also completely true. Then he starts typing again.

_**'But I think someday I might get there.'** _

_**'I'm here.'** _

The reply comes almost immediately and Stiles smiles, a weight lifting off his chest.

He might not have Scott any more, but it seems he's not as alone as he thought.

  
  


  
  


Stiles doesn't really expect much after that first interaction, but he keeps the cellphone with him nevertheless.

When the texts keep coming, to say that Stiles is surprised would be an understatement.

He's also purposefully not thinking about who's paying the bill for this thing, since he has no way of figuring that out.

It's never anything important, just random shit about their days, what they had for breakfast, or a movie on Netflix they end up watching 'together' and discussing through the phone.

And the longer it goes on, the weirder Stiles thinks it is that neither of them has confirmed who exactly it is that Stiles is texting.

Not that Stiles is overly worried, but he is going to be a little embarrassed if he ever finds out that it's not who he thinks it is.

It becomes so normal to text whatever he's thinking or feeling that when, a few weeks later, Stiles is called in to see the guidance counselor, Stiles immediately pulls out the phone – _his_ phone, he's thinking more and more – and sends a message.

_**'Help. Guidance counselor wants to see me. Do we know where Morelle is? If you don't hear from me in an hour, send help.'** _

It's the closest he's come to acknowledging that the person on the other end of the phone is not only from Beacon Hills, but went through everything Stiles went through, and he worries a little when there's no reply by the time he reaches the office door. He knocks gently, almost hoping that whoever is inside won't hear him and he can go back to class; but a soft 'come in' floats through the wood and Stiles steels himself before he enters.

The woman behind the desk smiles up at him. She has dark skin and dark eyes, but her open, friendly expression is nothing like the cold, calculating stare of Marin Morelle.

“Mr. Stilinski, please have a seat. I'm Stacy Kendrick, I'm the new guidance counselor.”

Stiles' hands itch towards his phone, desperate to call someone and confirm this, because he hasn't heard anything about a new guidance counselor.

“Why, um...why did you want to talk to me?”

He's having flashbacks to being in this room after Matt died, talking to Morelle and trying not to feel guilty over the guy's death, even though he knows that he wasn't directly responsible.

“I asked the teachers in the school about any kids they think deserves some special attention.” She shrugs. “It's just something I like to do when I start at a new school.”

“Are you telling me that my name came up?” Are his teachers concerned about him? Stiles would have assumed that their concerns about him would have lessened now that his grades have improved. He didn't expect it to warrant a trip to the guidance counselor.

Ms. Kendrick smiles. “A few teachers have mentioned you, yes.”

“Why? I mean, I'm not failing any classes or anything, right?”

“On the contrary, your teachers say you've improved massively over the last few months. They're impressed by your recent dedication to your studies.”

“Then I don't understand why I'm here.”

“I don't just deal with the problem students, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Stiles. Mr. Stilinski always makes me look around for my grandfather. People call me Stiles because they can't pronounce my real name.”

“Stiles, then,” Ms. Kendrick says with a nod of her head. “It's my job to make sure that all of our students are comfortable at the school, with the classes they're taking and their general school work and life.”

“Well, I...I think I'm doing okay.” He tries not to phrase it like a question, but he's just so confused about why he's here.

“More than okay,” the counselor says with a smile. “Did you know that you almost have enough credits to graduate?”

Stiles sits up straighter in his chair. “Are you serious?”

Ms. Kendrick nods again. “Is that something you think you'd be interested in?”

Stiles pauses, thinking, wondering, what it would be like, not having to go to school every day, not having to go out of his way to avoid the pack. “I...yeah, I think that's something worth looking in to.”

Kendrick shuffles through some files and papers on her desk. “We'd have to spend some time going through your transcripts and classes, see where you're falling down and try to round you out a little. But in the mean time, I think you should start looking at colleges, decide where it is you want to apply. Then maybe we can look into whether or not you'd be a good candidate for early admission.”

Getting out of Beacon Hills earlier than he thought, holy shit.

“That...yeah, that sounds great.”

“Excellent. Well, I'll go over everything and then I think we should schedule an appointment next week where we can discuss everything, come up with some kind of game plan.”

“Yeah, that seems awesome. Thank you, Ms. Kendrick.”

“Shall we say Monday? At four? We can get the ball rolling.”

Stiles smiles and stands up, leaving the office feeling a lot lighter than when he went in.

That is until he turns the corner and sees Scott and Liam hanging out by the lockers.

“Stiles?” Scott calls as he walks past, avoiding eye contact. “Stiles, what's going on? Why were you talking to the guidance counselor?”

Stiles glares at the Alpha. “Seriously? You're seriously asking me that question? You lost all right to ask me _anything_ the second you told me to get out of your pack.”

Scott swallows hard. “That's...that's not what happened. I just thought you needed a break to...to deal with what you did.”

Stiles feels like he's been slapped and he takes a step back. “Wow. That's...I cannot believe we're still talking about that.”

Scott sighs. “Stiles-”

“No, listen to me,” Stiles says, cutting him off, “listen to my heart, both of you, because I'm only going to say this once. Donovan Donatti died because he was trying to kill me. I was trying to get away from him and the scaffolding fell. _I did not beat him to death with a wrench_ and the fact that you believed _Theo_ over me shows how much faith you have in me.”

Scott and Liam both gape at him and Stiles can't help the curl of satisfaction in his gut when the beta turns an incredulous glare towards his Alpha.

“But Theo said-”

“Yeah, Theo, the one who put Lydia in mental hospital and turned Tracy into a cold-blooded killer. It's nice that you trust someone you barely know over someone you've known your whole life.” Stiles steps around them both. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to English.”

Stiles walks away and digs his phone out of his pocket. There's a message waiting for him.

_**'Braeden says Morelle is in New England with a new pack. You're safe from her. Can't say much about the new one.'** _

Stiles snorts and types a reply, reporting everything that happened in the office. He doesn't get a reply until he's already home.

**'I'm in Washington state.'**

Stiles laughs.

**'If you're in Forks, I'm gonna beat you with a baseball bat made with mountain ash and wolfsbane.'**

Then the purpose of the text sinks in and he blinks. 

“Oh.”

  
  


  
  


“ _You have to go to him. It'll all be okay for you if you go.”_

Stiles thinks about the words Lydia said to him in Eichen House. He thinks about the over and over until they lose all meaning and then he spends the weekend looking at colleges in Washington, getting lost in the descriptions of the campuses and classes and the courses offered, until he realizes that the colleges he's looking at are spread out all over the state and he has no idea where in Washington his texting buddy actually lives. He never replied to the Forks joke, probably because he knew Stiles would need to take a minute to freak out and research.

_**'In all seriousness, where abouts in Washington are you actually living?'** _

He doesn't want to apply to colleges that are too far away from the only friend he has left in the world.

_**'Are you thinking about college here? I'm near Seattle, about fifteen minutes outside the city.'** _

Stiles immediately starts looking at colleges in the Seattle area and his phone chimes again – his original cellphone this time.

It's a message from Malia.

_**'We took down the Beast. Mason's safe. You can come back now.'** _

Stiles turns his phone off and goes back to his research. 

He's going to do whatever it takes to get into one of these colleges.

Because it'll all be okay if he goes.

  
  


  
  


The Sheriff comes home late a few nights later.

Stiles has made dinner, eaten dinner, washed the dishes while leaving something for his dad, done his homework and settled down in the living room to watch reruns of _Mythbusters._

It's a crying shame that show ended.

When the front door opens, Stiles' interest is piqued and he leans up until he can see over the back of the couch.

“I left you some dinner in the oven, if you're hungry.”

Noah sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, making Stiles frown.

“Everything okay?”

Noah looks at him like he's trying to decide if he should tell Stiles whatever it is that's bothering him.

“Dad,” Stiles presses, because he absolutely does need to know what's going on.

“I was just called to Scott's house. A woman was found dead on his porch. She was pretty badly mauled.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “An animal attack, right?”

“That's the official statement.”

“And the unofficial statement?”

“Malia killed her mom. Her birth mom. She attacked Malia and Braeden while they were hanging out at Scott's. Malia's claiming self-defense, but I can't really do anything about the claw marks.”

Stiles nods, taking a few minutes to digest the information. Then he snorts. “Scott must be loving this, another member of his pack is a murderer.”

“You're not a murderer,” the Sheriff snaps, “and from what Braeden tells me, neither is Malia. Anyway, I don't think Scott knows yet. Malia said they haven't really seen much of him since they saved Mason.”

Stiles scoffs, completely unsurprised. “Is Malia okay?”

Noah nods as he sinks down onto the couch next to his son. “From what I can tell, she's just...processing.”

“Yeah, killing your mom, that's gotta be a mind fuck.”

Its says something that Noah doesn't even scold him from for his language.

“I mean,” Stiles goes on, “I know the Desert Wolf was an evil bitch and she's been hunting Malia ever since she found out Malia was still alive, but still...”

“Yeah, still.” The Sheriff sighs again. “Deaton said he'll look at the body, bullshit some animal attack. It's the best we can do to make this seem even a little bit plausible. They couldn't have done this somewhere other than Scott's backyard?”

“I don't think Malia had much of a choice in where her mother tried to kill her.”

Noah nods. “What the hell kind of world do we live in?” He gets to his feet. “I'm starving.”

Stiles watches him head to the kitchen before he picks up his phone, the new one. He hasn't bothered with the old one much, not since Malia started texting him again, after they'd taken care of the Beast.

Instead, he's programmed his dad's and Braeden's numbers into the new phone. Apart from his mystery texter, they're the only two people he's had regular contact with him lately.

_**'Is Malia okay?'** _

It takes Braeden a few minutes to answer, long enough for his dad to heat up his dinner and sit down at the table to eat.

_**'She's coping. It's a lot to deal with, to take in, but I think she feels better knowing she's really free.'** _

Stiles collapses back into the couch cushions and stares at the ceiling, remembering the Malia from the beginning of the year, when they'd just found out that the Desert Wolf was gunning for her own daughter. Malia's mind was heavy, weighed down by the knowledge that she had a target on her back.

He wishes he could see his Malia, the Malia who can finally breathe freely.

He's a little bummed that he never will.

The phone chirps again and Stiles picks it up, swipes his thumb across the screen and taps until he can pull up the newest message, smiling when he sees the latest one from 'W'.

_**'Avatar is going to have five sequels? I'm not really sure it deserves one.'** _

Stiles laughs out loud and spends a few minutes thinking about someone else who can breathe now that the weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

  
  


  
  


Malia comes up behind Scott, leaning over his shoulder to see what her Alpha was looking at.

Stiles is sitting at one of the picnic tables outside, typing on his laptop and reading a textbook at the same time, a pencil hanging from the side of his mouth.

He looks...calmer, calmer than Malia has ever seen him and she gets the feeling that this is not what Scott expected to happen.

“Did I do the right thing?” Scott asks suddenly and Malia rolls her eyes.

“No.” She doesn't elaborate and Scott doesn't press her to.

“I wanted him to just...think, about what he did.”

“What? Save his own life? Defend himself from the monster that was trying to kill him?”

“I didn't know that at the time.”

“No, you didn't, because you chose to believe a psychopath that spent the better part of the semester actively trying to kill you than letting Stiles explain.”

“I didn't know that either, about Theo, not when I was talking to Stiles.”

“Again, because you didn't listen to Stiles. We all knew there was something not right about Theo.”

“But I didn't think he was working with the Dread Doctors.”

“Or my mom.”

As they watch, Stiles pauses in whatever it is he's doing – homework, probably – and reaches for his phone, sitting on the table next to the textbook. 

The pencil falls from Stiles' mouth as he laughs at whatever text message he's just received, and Malia feels Scott tense next to her.

“Who's he texting?” she asks, unable to stop herself.

Scott shrugs. “I don't know. I didn't know he knew very many people outside of the pack. At least, not well enough to be so friendly with.”

“What, you mean after you took away all his friends he's not allowed to go out and make more?”

Scott whirls to face her. “What? That wasn't...I didn't do that.”

“Scott, you made Stiles leave the pack, however temporary you thought it was gonna be, and you told all of us to stay away from him, not to contact him at all. And, what? Now you're upset because Stiles isn't suffering and falling apart without you? You forced this on Stiles for no other reason than your own morality.”

“I still think there was probably a better way, a way that didn't end in murder.”

“Self-defense, Scott. There isn't a court in the country who would convict Stiles of murder, and if you can't understand that, then maybe Stiles is right to move on with his life.”

“Malia?” Scott calls, but she just turns on her heel and walks away.

She might put on a brave face, but she's hurt and she can't deny it. She and Stiles might not be together anymore, but he was the first real friend she can remember having, and losing him over something so minor makes Malia's heart ache.

She doesn't blame Scott, not really. She understands the kind of person he is, the kind of person that made him a True Alpha.

She just wishes he was a little more open minded, so that he would be able to understand that the world isn't so black and white, and people like her and Stiles will always live in the gray.

Her blue eyes should be proof of that.

  
  


  
  


  
  


By mid-November, Stiles has passed his GED and has all of his applications filed.

He didn't apply to any college outside of Washington state, so if he doesn't get accepted, he's a little screwed, he's not ashamed to admit it.

Of course, he might not get accepted for early admission and then he'll have to wait to find out if he got accepted anywhere for the fall semester, and he's not really sure what he'll do if that's the case.

He and his dad have already decided that Stiles should get out of town as soon as his GED comes through; if no college has accepted him for early admission, he doesn't really have a plan.

_**'You should come here anyway.'** _

Mystery texter sends the simple message an hour after Stiles had been ranting at him about the whole thing. Stiles wonders if he was thinking the whole thing over, if he was second guessing whether he wants Stiles living in the same state or not.

' _ **What'**_ Stiles replies, giggling like a child over the lack of punctuation.

_**'I know you want to get out of Beacon Hills, Stiles. Whatever happens, you're welcome to come up here. Even if it ends up not being your final destination.'** _

Stiles feels himself let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and he collapses back into the couch.

At least he now, whatever happens, he has somewhere to go, someone who wants him around.

It's a nice feeling.

  
  


  
  


“So, how is everything?” Ms. Kendrick asks him, folding her hands in front of her on top of the desk.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, yeah, I think I'm doing okay.”

“I know you've passed all of your required classes, you have all of your applications filed, and yet you're still here.” She smiles at him like she knows all of his secrets and Stiles can't help but blush a little.

“Yeah, well, I don't find out whether or not I've been accepted for early admission until, like, March, which is insane and I think I'll actually lose my mind if I have to just sit at home and wait, so my dad and I talked to the principle and got him to agree to let me, like, audit classes or whatever until I find out.” Stiles shrugs. “Plus, no one actually knows I've graduated except for you and the rest of the teachers, so I'd rather just keep that to myself for as long as possible.”

Ms. Kendrick smiles at him. “I think that's a smart choice. You seem to have given this a lot of thought. I know it wasn't your plan at the start of the school year, but you've really flourished with this idea. Have you given any thought to what you'll do if it doesn't go your way? If you don't get early admission?”

“I'll still be going to Seattle. I'm gonna move up there as soon as I get the answer, either way. If I don't get in, I'll get a job, save up some money, then reapply when I can. If I do get accepted, I'll move around mid-April time, get used to the city, find my way around campus, that sort of thing.”

“I did notice that you'd only applied to colleges in Washington. Is there a reason for that?”

“I have friends there,” Stiles says quickly, the words feeling heavy on his tongue, no matter how true that might be these days. “I'm gonna be staying with them, either full time or until classes start, we haven't decided yet.”

“These friends are in college there, too?”

“Uh...yeah. I mean, they've been there for a while, so I figured it would be a lot easier on me if I had someone who would be able to show me around, instead of floundering like all the other freshmen.”

Ms. Kendrick laughs. “Well, that was certainly a smart decision, and I'm happy that you've got a plan in place if things don't go your way.”

Stiles hides a wince as he thinks about all the plans and contingency plans he and the pack had to have in place when it came to fighting the different Big Bads they faced over the years.

But Ms. Kendrick clears her throat before Stiles has to find an answer for her. “But, Stiles, I want to take a moment to talk about what happens next.”

“Next?” Stiles repeats, confused.

“Yes, next. No matter what happens come March, you will be leaving high school before all of your classmates, people you've grown up with since kindergarten. You'll be leaving them all behind. Have you thought about what that will mean?”

“No offense, Ms. Kendrick, but that's exactly why I'm doing this. I realized a while ago that I don't belong here anymore, with these people, and I can't wait to get out of here.”

She studies him for a second, her eyes narrowed, like she's trying to see through him. “Is there a reason why you want to get out of Beacon Hills so badly? Is everything okay at home, with your dad?”

Stiles scoffs. “My dad and I are fine, he's so proud of me for doing this.” He doesn't want to mention that his dad will be coming to Washington with him, eventually. He doesn't know when exactly he'll be able to make the move, and he doesn't want it getting out that the Sheriff of the town is getting ready to leave. Who knows how much chaos that will cause.

“And not at home?” Ms. Kendrick presses.

Stiles sighs. “There's just some stuff that's happened over the last few years, it almost feels like there's not enough room to breathe in this town anymore.” Not with all the supernatural creatures running in and out. “Actually getting out will probably have me doing somersaults.”

He laughs and he's pleased when Ms. Kendrick joins in with him, but she sobers quickly. “Is there anything you want to talk about? I've read your file, remember; I know you've had some hospital stays, some run ins with the police.”

“I interact with the police every day,” he says with a shrug and he laughs again when she gives him a concerned look. “My dad's the sheriff, remember?”

“Of course, how could I forget, with a name like Stilinski?”

“We do stand out, that's for sure.”

She picks up some papers and shuffles them carefully. “I have to say, Stiles, I am very pleased with the progress you've made. The difference in you since the first time I met you, I think this is exactly what you needed.”

Stiles nods. “I'm just really looking forward to sorting the rest of my life out.”

  
  


Scott doesn't see Stiles over Christmas or New Year and he can't really understand why.

“You told him to stay away.”

Scott blinks and pulls his eyes away from Stiles' gift, sitting untouched under the tree, and glances over at where Malia's standing in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“What?” he asks with a frown.

She nods towards the gift. “Stiles, you told him to stay away.”

“Yeah, from the pack and all the supernatural shit. Not...not...” he trails off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

Malia snorts. “You can't ask Stiles to separate his life like that, he's not capable of that. We're a pack, Scott, we're not normal people and you can't keep Stiles out of that and still keep him as a friend. It's all or nothing.”

Scott shakes his head. “No, Stiles...Stiles is normal, he's...he's human, he doesn't need to be a part of all of this, he can have a normal life.”

This time, Malia laughs out right, long and loud and slight manic. “After everything he's been through, Gerard, the Nogitsune, The Alpha Pack and the Darach, the Deadpool, the Dread Doctors, _Donovan_ , how is Stiles ever supposed to forget about all of that?”

“That's not what I meant...I didn't mean that he should forget all about it, just that he doesn't have a tie to this stuff...and maybe...maybe if he wasn't part of this, he wouldn't, he could get...” He trails off, doesn't finish the sentence, but from the look on Malia's face, she's already filled in the blanks.

She's gaping at him. “He can get _better_ , is that what you were going to say? Because Stiles is, what? Broken? Dangerous? _Wrong_?”

“Of course not,” Scott spits.

“Then, what, Scott? Why are you pushing Stiles away?”

Scott has to look away from her, because honestly, he doesn't have an answer.

  
  


  
  


After New Year's, when school starts back up, Scott starts noticing some things, namely the fact that Stiles isn't in his Geography class.

It's Scott's third period class of the day and the first he shares with Stiles. Ever since...everything happened, Stiles has moved to sit at the back of the class, away from the seats in the middle they'd shared for as long as Scott could remember. 

But Stiles isn't sitting in his regular seat when Ms. Quill calls their class to order and begins collecting the assignments they'd been given over the Christmas break and Scott takes a moment to panic quietly to himself before he realizes that he can actually smell Stiles somewhere in the school.

He's just not in this class.

He's not in gym next period either. Stiles had given up lacrosse when Scott...when he...but he'd still been attending gym class. Until today.

Scott starts to panic until he gets to his AP Biology class, just before lunch.

Ever since Kira left, Lydia has been Scott's partner, so they're sitting at a station together, with a clear view of the door, so neither of them miss it when Stiles walks into the room.

Scott and Lydia share a look of surprised confusion before they turn back to Stiles and watch him walk to the back of the room without sparing either of them so much as a a glance.

He takes a seat at an empty station, no partner, and takes out a notebook and a pen, dropping his bag to the floor before he sits up straight and gives all of his attention to Mrs. Finch as she starts talking about the experiment they'll be doing today.

She starts handing out equipment and instructions and Scott loses himself in making sure no one else in the class notices that he has to practically slice his finger open to get enough blood on the slide, because a prick heals to fast for the blood to flow.

But he does notice that Stiles isn't taking part in the experiment. He just sits at the back, reading through the print out and takes notes.

The experiment takes all of their attention and before Scott knows it, the bell is ringing and students are flying out the door to lunch, including Stiles.

He and Lydia make their way to the cafeteria at a much more sedate pace, Scott throwing theories at her while she simply hums in response.

“Stiles was in your AP biology class?” Malia asks as soon as they reach the table, probably having heard their conversation from the class room. “He doesn't take AP biology. He could take AP biology, but he hates it.”

“He was there,” Scott says, sitting down next to Hayden and pulling out the lunch sack his mom left for him in the fridge.

“Why?” Liam asks around a mouthful of mystery meat. Hayden makes a face.

Scott shrugs. “Maybe he's spying on us or something.”

Lydia groans loudly before any of the rest of the pack can agree or not with Scott's statement. “Oh, for the love of Lucifer, you can't honestly think that Stiles cares enough about any of us anymore that he would join an AP bio class to spy on us?”

“It sure seems like he'd have a lot more time on his hands since he quit the pack,” Mason grumbles miserably and Scott resolutely ignores the furious look Lydia sends his way before the discussion gets the best of her attention.

“He's auditing classes,” she says definitively. “He wasn't in Spanish first period and I know there's an AP English class in that same time block because the guidance counselor wanted me to take it, but why would I want to take an AP English class when my focus is math?”

“Can your focus come back to this conversation?” Hayden snaps and Scott rolls his eyes at Liam's giggle.

Lydia glares at her and she shrinks back in her seat, turning her eyes to her tray. 

“My guess is that Stiles has enough credits to graduate and he's auditing the AP classes while he figures out what he wants to do now,” the banshee finishes, popping a grape in her mouth.

“You mean he could graduate early?” Mason looks horrified. “He'd really do that? He'd really leave the pack for good?”

Malia shrugs as she shovels food into her mouth. “Why wouldn't he? If Scott kicked me out of the pack, I'd probably leave town, too.” She pauses. “I'd probably go back to the forest. Or maybe me and Stiles could start our own pack? I mean, he doesn't want to have sex with me anymore, but I think he'd still be my friend if Scott wasn't keeping him away.”

Liam, Mason and Hayden level Scott with identical looks of shock.

“It's not like it sounds,” Scott tries.

“It's exactly like it sounds.” Lydia leaves the table and right now, Scott can't really blame her.

  
  


  
  


The letter comes the first week in March.

Stiles sets it on the coffee table and then sits on the couch and stares at it for twenty minutes, before he loses it, grabs the thing and rips it open.

Then he stares for a little bit longer.

He's still staring at it when his dad comes home from work.

“Hey, kid,” he says as he hangs his keys on the hook by the door and hangs up his jacket.

Stiles can't find it in him to answer, just nods his head and continues to look at the letter like it's suddenly going to sprout fangs and bite his hand off.

He can hear his dad puttering around in the background, locking his service weapon in the safe, pulling off his boots and putting on his house slippers. He goes to the kitchen and switches on the coffee maker before he makes his way to the stairs, passing behind the couch on his way there.

He pauses when he finally notices that Stiles hasn't so much as blinked in his direction. “Stiles? You okay, kiddo?”

Stiles can't make his voice work, so he just points to the letter and his dad moves around the couch to pick it up, sitting himself on the coffee table in its place.

Noah clears his throat and begins to read. “Dear Mieczyslaw, congratulations! On behalf of the staff and faculty at the University of Washington, it is with great pleasure that I inform you of your admission to our Early Admittance program at our Seattle Campus as a member of the class of – Stiles!”

His father moves to sit beside him on the couch. “This is incredible! I'm so proud of you!” He pulls Stiles into a hug.

“It's a full ride,” Stiles mumbles into the fabric of Noah's uniform shirt. “I got a full ride to...holy shit.”

The reality of the whole thing hits him at that exact moment. He got accepted to the early admittance program at his first choice college. It's a full ride, meaning he doesn't have to worry about how he's going to pay for anything.

There's absolutely no reason why Stiles would turn this offer down, he should be extremely excited about all of this, which doesn't explain why he suddenly bursts into tears.

“I'm sorry,” he blubbers into his father's shirt, “I don't know why...”

Noah chuckles. “It's a big moment, Stiles, I get it. This the first step towards the rest of your life, it's an emotional moment.”

Stiles sniffs and pulls away, disgustingly wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve. “I need to...um, I need to accept and...and talk to the high school about leaving, actually graduating instead of putting it off like I have been.”

“And you have to contact that buddy of yours and let him know you're gonna take him up on that offer he made you.” There's a glint in Noah's eye, the same one Stiles gets when he's texting his buddy. They both know who they're talking about, but they're both having entirely too much fun pretending that they don't.

Stiles pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens the text thread with his buddy.

**'I got in. Full ride. UW Seattle, early admission.'**

There's a pause of about two minutes before his phone beeps with a reply.

**'I guess I'll see you in a few weeks, then.'**

Stiles laughs so hard he gets hiccups.

  
  


  
  


Stiles leaves the principal's office feeling lighter than he has in weeks. 

Alright, so this has been his plan for months, but now that it's actually happening, it feels like there's been a weight lifted off of his shoulders, like all of his problems have been solved.

Stiles hooks his backpack over one shoulder and grabs the handle of the box he stole from the Sheriff's station and makes his way down the hallway to his locker.

The combination on his locker has been the same since freshman year, because he's sentimental, sue him. The lock clicks open and he opens the door, his eyes immediately falling to the photos stuck to the inside of it, like the most high school cliché ever.

Everyone's there, including the ones they lost, both permanently and geographically. Even Jackson made the cut, the lacrosse team photo stuck way at the top. Stiles smiles at the photos of the werewolves camping it up for Allison's phone. Cora had taught them all how to control their eye flare, because she and the rest of her family had managed to get driver's licenses somehow. Stiles still doesn't know the answer, how they actually do it, but he does remember that when Malia eventually learned, she sent him one hundred and twenty-nine selfies in one night. Two of them made it to his locker, because that's what boyfriends did.

He starts with everything else first. Textbooks and notebooks, pens and pencils, highlighters, rulers and other random stationary, a half full reusable water bottle, it all goes into the box. A red hoodie hanging at the back of the locker makes him laugh and he adds that to his pile. All that's left is a spare key for the Jeep – because he learned after the second time they were chased through the school, fearing for their lives – and a lacrosse ball, and finally, he can turn his attention to the photos.

He wants to leave them. That's the way he's feeling, like he just needs to leave everything about Beacon Hills behind him, including the memories.

But then he looks at the people in the photos – the ones that they're never going to see again. Boyd, looking stoic and fierce as he stands reluctantly in the back of a group photo they'd bullied Danny into taking. He was never the same after they'd rescued him and Cora from the Alpha Pack. Losing Erica, watching her die right in front of his eyes, broke something in him that no one could ever fix. 

Then there's Aiden. Stiles doesn't know why he even has a photo of Aiden taped inside his locker. Probably because he'd thought Lydia looked really cute, even as he leaned against the former Alpha werewolf, sandwiched between him and his twin brother, Ethan. Stiles had never really spent much time with either of the twins, he'd always sort of resented the fact that Scott had let them hang around, after everything they had done while they were in Ducalians's claws. Coerced or not, they were directly involved in Boyd's death, and probably Erica's, too. But they'd both stood up, stood by Scott against the Nogitsune and it had cost Aiden his life.

And finally, Allison.

There's more than one picture of the Argent Matriarch displayed on the limited space. Group shots, doubles with Scott and Lydia and Isaac, and one solo shot Stiles had snapped with his cellphone just before the Nogitsune crap had started. She's sitting on the steps at the front of the school, white dress and knee-high boots that should look silly, but somehow she always managed to pull it off. Her hair's still the lighter color it was when she came back from her summer overseas, and she's staring off to her right, probably watching Scott park his ridiculous dirt bike. 

She looks serene and happy in the photo, content with what she'd chosen to do with her life and the role of the Argent Matriarch, and Stiles will forever carry the guilt of her death, no matter what anyone tells him.

It's that reason, Allison, that makes up Stiles' mind and he starts carefully taking down the photographs, slipping them inside one of his textbooks before he puts the lid on the box and picks it up.

For better or worse, these are his memories, and he deserves to be able to have something to look back on – when he finally feels like he can.

He doesn't bother closing the locker, someone else will be inhabiting it before too much longer, he just shoulders his backpack and grabs his box and turns towards the exit.

The group of people gathered at the end of the hallway, however, stops him in his tracks.

They don't look all that happy, or even friendly, but that doesn't change the fact that they're all still standing there, discussing something that looks fairly serious, if Scott's expression is anything to go by.

“He showed up again last week.”

Stiles startles and turns to see Lydia standing next to him. He hadn't even heard her approach him.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Theo. He showed up again last week.”

Stiles grunts. “Where was he?” It never occurred to Stiles that he hadn't seen Theo around in a few months, not since he really started to work on his plan.

Lydia swallows hard and her hand flutters to her neck and for the first time, Stiles notices a scar across her throat. He doesn't get time to ask about it, though, as the banshee launches into an explanation.

“After we figured everything out, that Mason was the Beast, that Theo was working with the Dread Doctors, Kira made a deal.”

Stiles blinks. “Kira made a deal? With who?”

“The Skinwalkers. She's not in control of her kitsune side, or at least, she wasn't. Not long after you and Scott...after what happened with the two of you, Kira's mom took her to the desert, to see if the Skinwalkers could fix her. But they wouldn't let her leave, said she was dangerous, even after Kira passed their test. So Scott rescued her.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Because of course he did.”

Lydia ducks her head to hide a grin before she continues. “Kira still didn't have control, but everyone did whatever they needed to do to ignore it. Until we couldn't anymore.” She takes a deep breath, like the words are hard to get out. “The night we figured out that Mason was the Beast, Kira attacked Scott. She almost killed him.” 

Stiles shakes his head knowing it's pointless to wonder why Scott didn't tell him about any of this. He wanted Stiles out of the pack, that included not asking Stiles for help when he probably could have used it.

“Kira made a deal with the Skinwalkers after that. She'd go with them, stay with them, learn from them, if they dealt with Theo.”

“Dealt with him?” Stiles repeats.

Lydia shrugs. “I don't know, I haven't really...” she trails off and touches her throat again. “Let's just say I'm not exactly feeling very pack-like right now. I'm pretty much last on everyone's emergency call list.”

“Nah, that's definitely me,” Stiles says with a snort.

Lydia laughs with him, but she sobers quickly. “Anyway, he showed up a week ago and Scott says he's...well, he's not exactly a boy scout all of a sudden, but Scott doesn't think he's Kylo Ren anymore, either.”

“Like Scott even knows who Kylo Ren even is.”

Lydia cringes. “Liam and Hayden made him watch the whole series before the new one came out. Sorry.”

Stiles pinches the bridges of his nose, confused as to why he's suddenly so upset. Scott spent years coming up with excuses every time Stiles tried to sit him down to watch even the original trilogy. That Scott made the time for people he's known for less than two years...

It stings, and Stiles can't even find it in himself to come up with an excuse not to care.

“So what?” he says, trying to ignore the catch in his voice. “Theo comes back, says he's all better and Scott just lets him into the pack?”

“From what Malia tells me, he's not in the pack, but Scott's keeping him close. Keeping an eye on him, I guess, so that he can prove himself, one way or another. We were all against it, hence the reason why I'm currently taking a sabbatical, but you know Scott.”

“Always taking Theo's side, even at the expense of his oldest friends.”

Stiles doesn't mean to sound so bitter, but it's there in his tone anyway.

“He knows he was wrong, for what it's worth.”

Stiles tears his eyes away from where Scott, Theo, Liam and Mason are having a private, intense little pow wow at the end of the hallway and looks at Lydia. “What?”

“Scott, he knows he was wrong for asking you to step away from the pack. He knows what Theo was trying to do.”

“And yet he's still rooting for the little bastard anyway.”

“What do you care anyway? You're leaving, right?” 

Lydia nodded towards the box in his hands and he followed her gaze, huffing a laugh.

“How long have you known?” Because she's Lydia Martin, and she knows everything.

She shrugs. “Couple months. You stopped handing in assignments for certain classes and I saw you painting backgrounds for the winter play. Rounding out your extra curriculars. After Christmas, you started auditing classes, so I figured you had enough credits to graduate and you were waiting until you decided what to do next. Guess you decided, huh? You got accepted?”

Stiles nods. “Early admission.”

“And you're not going to tell me where, are you?”

Stiles sighs, because, honestly, he doesn't really have a reason not to tell her he's going to Washington, or about his texting buddy.

He just doesn't want to.

Lydia gives him a sad sort of smile and an understanding nod and Stiles feels his resolve crack a little. He sets his box down, takes out a notebook and jots down the number of his new phone.

He tears out the page and hands it to her. She eyes it warily.

“A new phone? You really are leaving, aren't you? For good. What about your dad? You're really never going to come back and see him?”

Stiles looks away, busies himself with picking up his box again, but Lydia sees right through him.

“He's going with you, isn't he?”

Again, Stiles keeps his silence, and when he looks back at her, Lydia's expression is angry, but Stiles doesn't think that anger is directed at him.

She huffs a sigh, and crosses her arms over her chest, her gaze locked on some point just over Stiles' left shoulder. “MIT have been recruiting me. For a while now.”

“Wha – Lydia that's amazing, are you serious?”

She nods. “I've been...not ignoring them, exactly, but keeping them at bay while I sorted through everything that...that happened recently.” There's a look on her face that Stiles can't place. Remorseful? Embarrassed? Ashamed? Stiles doesn't know, but as he watches, she shakes it off and turns to face him, her head held high.

“I could accept tomorrow and be there at the end of the week. They're _very_ interested.”

“So go!” Stiles yells, wincing at the sound of his own voice.

“I'm a banshee, Stiles, how the hell is that going to work in Boston?”

“You're a banshee, you know when someone's going to die. But that doesn't mean you have to get involved,” Stiles points out.

She scoffs. “And what do I tell my roommate when I wake up in the middle of the night screaming so loudly all the windows and mirrors have shattered?”

“If MIT are chasing you so hard, make a single dorm room part of whatever package they're offering you. I'll send you some stuff about sound proofing. If you wanna get involved, you can, but if you want to just...go to college, you can do that, too.”

Lydia nods her head, then gives him a tight smile. “Any chance you're gonna be somewhere on the East coast so that you can help me sound proof my room in person?”

Stiles laughs loudly. “Nice try, Martin.”

“Can't really blame me, can you?” She heaves a sigh and turns to face him head on. “Look, Stiles, I know that, in the beginning, I wasn't so nice to you. In fact, I treated you horribly, and I'm not really sure that I ever made up for that, or even if I can. But these last few years, everything that's happened with the pack, with Jackson, with...with Allison, you've been there for me, through all of it. You've become my best friend, Stiles, and while that's something I never expected to happen when I started high school, it's something I don't ever want to change. Please don't just disappear on me.”

Stiles is speechless. He never thought about this scenario. Lydia was always his goddess, the unattainable goal that kept him awake a nights and made him get up in the morning. When Stiles was a naive fifteen year old, Lydia Martin was his end game and now...

Now she's not.

Now she's his rock, his support system, his touchstone in so many ways.

She's everything that Scott used to be and that thought hurts in more ways than Stiles would have thought possible.

“You'll never get rid of me that easily, Lydia, I mean, I actually got you to remember my name. That's something I never thought would happen.”

Lydia shoves him gently, laughing, but she sobers quickly.

“When are you leaving?”

“In a week or so. The quarter starts mid-June, but I want to have some time to settle in. Get used to the town, find my way around. Maybe even get a job.”

Lydia doesn't smile or even agree with him. “Just be careful, Stiles,” she says instead. “You might not be in Beacon Hills anymore, but you still know a lot of stuff that could get you into trouble.”

Stiles thinks about his texting buddy and bites back a grin. “I'll be fine, I promise.”

Lydia springs forward and presses a kiss to Stiles' cheek before he can even react and gives him a warm smile.

“I'll talk to you soon, Stiles,” she says, like there's no doubt in her mind that they won't lose touch, and then she walks away, turning down a nearby hallway so that she doesn't run into the pack who are still standing where Stiles first spotted them.

Except they're looking right at him now.

Stiles makes sure his face is expressionless as he stares them down. Scott takes a step towards him, like he's planning on actually talking to Stiles, but Malia grabs his arm before he can take another. 

Stiles' ex-girlfriend has a harsh, angry look on her face as she glares at Scott while the True Alpha just looks confused and Stiles uses their distraction to turn on his heel and head outside, ignoring the shouts of someone behind him.

He gets into the Jeep, dumping the box on the passenger seat, and locks the door. He puts the key in the ignition and when he looks up, out through the windshield, it's Mason looking back at him, confusion and concern radiating from him.

Stiles just starts the engine and drives away.

  
  


  
  


  
  


When Stiles finally makes it home, feeling wrung out and wanting nothing more than a good hot shower, there's another car parked in his spot.

With a sigh, Stiles parks on the street and grabs his box before he gets out, walking up behind the unknown car.

It's a Jeep, too, black, a few years off being new, but still a few decades newer than Roscoe, and in pretty good condition, from what Stiles can see. There's nothing distinguishing about it, nothing to give Stiles some clue as to it's owner, so he has no idea who's visiting his house and he'd really rather not deal with strangers right now. He awkwardly balances the box between his left arm and his hip and digs his phone out of his pocket with this free hand. It's awkward to text, but he manages.

_**'Someone parked in my spot. :('** _

As usual, he doesn't need to wait long for a reply, and his phone chimes as he's heading up the porch steps.

_**'Parking on the street will be good practice for you.'** _

Stiles frowns. They haven't actually talking about where Stiles will be living when he finally makes it up to Washington, but he had thought that, wherever it was, there'd be room for more than one car to park in the driveway.

He's texting back when the sound of the front door opening draws his attention and he looks up to see his dad standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey, we have visitors?” Stiles asks as he watches Noah reaches for the box, taking it from his son and replace it with a set of keys.

It takes Stiles a hot second, to figure it out, but then it hits him and his eyes grow wide as his gaze flicker between the keys, his dad and the black Jeep.

“Are you serious?!” 

Noah looks awkward, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck as he winces. “Yeah, I am. Look, son, I know you love the Jeep, but the fact of the matter is, that thing isn't safe anymore. There's absolutely no way you would have gotten to Washington in that thing. I'm surprised you got yourself to school and back.”

Stiles cringes. “Yeah, I'm not gonna lie, I'm kinda taking my life in my hands every time I crank the engine.”

The Sheriff looks pale even as he waves towards the new car. “Hence...”

Stiles looks down at the keys again, hits the fob and the Jeep beeps as the doors unlock. Stiles doesn't bother stifling his giggle, but he sobers quickly. “Dad, can we afford this?”

He doesn't need to look up to know that his dad is rolling his eyes. “Yes, Stiles, we can afford to buy you a new car for going to college.”

“Dad-”

Noah cuts him off. “Stiles, your mom and me, as soon as we found out we were pregnant, we started a college fund, knowing that we might struggle a little when the time came.” He frowns. “I'll admit, after your mom...I might have missed paying into it for a little while, but there's still a good amount in there. And, since my wonderful, clever, amazing son went and got himself, not only a full ride to his first choice college, but also a place to live rent free for however long he's there, there's enough to take a little bit out to make sure you had a reliable mode of transportation while still giving you a good chunk of cash to live on. At least for a while. I'm not saying that money will last your entire college career, you might have to get a job or something eventually, but it'll do for a while.”

Stiles can feel tears pricking at his eyes and he rushes forward to embrace his dad. The box tumbles to the floor, the contents spilling everywhere, but neither of them care.

“Thank you,” Stiles mumbles into the fabric of his father's shirt. “Thank you for everything you've done for me. You did a great job.”

Noah snorts. “I did a lousy job, but you grew up okay anyway.”

Stiles laughs and pulls away, wiping his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his hoodie. “Now what happens?” he asks, because, just for once, he wants to not think and make decisions for once.

Noah puts his hands on his hips and sighs. “The future,” he says with a smile and Stiles can't help but smile in return.

  
  


  
  


_**'I'm never going to see most of these people again.'** _

Stiles sends the text before he can stop himself and returns to looking out the window. He's sitting in the food court of the mall, taking a break from packing and gorging himself on orange chicken from _Panda Express._ He's sitting at the window that overlooks the parking lot, and down there, right now, Liam and Hayden are having some sort of massive argument while Mason and Cory look on, amused.

_**'Is that going to be a problem?'** _

He never has to wait long for his buddy to text back, but sometimes, he wishes he had a minute to think, to just...process everything that's happening to him.

Of course, it would probably be easier to do that if he didn't text in the first place, but his buddy never was very good with technology.

Stiles rolls his eyes at the reply. Why must everyone around him always try to make him think through his issues? Just for once, can't someone just sympathize with him? Tell him 'there, there' and pat him on the back?

_**'No. And yes. We've been through a lot.'** _

In the parking lot, Hayden shoves Liam so hard he flies across the parking lot and slams into the side of some soccer mom car, denting it badly. Alarms start blaring, Cory turns invisible on instinct, taking Mason with him, and Hayden and Liam panic and run off in opposite directions.

_' **We all have.'**_

Stiles wonders how any of them are going to survive without him. Scott better do all he can to keep Lydia on his side.

_**'You need your own life, Stiles, a chance to be with people who want you around. Not ones who will cast you aside the send they think you're in the way.'** _

It stings, but only because it's the truth. It didn't use to be like this, they were all in this together, once upon a time. And then people started dying, and leaving and the human contingent of the pack got reduced to one.

Mason never really counted.

And then that one became a liability, became untrustworthy, apparently, and needed to be replaced.

Stiles wonders if Mason is even half as good at the research as Stiles is.

He also wonders if that skill will go to waste, now that he's leaving Beacon Hills, or will he and his buddy have their own mysteries to solve once Stiles gets to Washington.

_**'And anyway, won't it be nice not to have to worry about someone dying before the end of the day?'** _

Stiles smiles at his phone.

  
  


  
  


“Aha!” Stiles yells, throwing his hands in the air a second after he closes the passenger door of the new Jeep.

“Nope.”

Startled, Stiles spins around to see his dad leaning against the porch railing.

“No what?” 

Noah points to the Jeep. “You can't see through the rear view mirror. There is no way I'm letting you leave here to drive all the way to Washington if you can't see out the back window.”

Stiles looks at the Jeep, circles around until he's standing at the back and he frowns.

“Aw, man, come on!” he whines, “that's not even illegal!”

“No, it's not, but there's still no way I'm going to let you drive like this.” Noah sighs and hops down the porch steps until he's standing next to Stiles in the driveway. “Are you really sure you're going to need all of this?” He opens the door and sticks his head into the Jeep and he groans. “Stiles, really? Action figures?”

He comes back into view holding a Pop Vinyl Batman. 

“What? I have a whole new room to put my stamp on; I have to represent my fandoms.”

“Surely you can go without the comic books and DVDs and Blu-rays for a few months.” He grins. “You're starting college, you shouldn't have time for rewatching TV shows you've seen a million times already.”

Stiles shrugs. “That's more for nostalgia, really. Whatever isn't on Netflix I have saved on my laptop anyway.”

Noah rolls his eyes. “I'll be following you in a couple months, son. Whatever you don't absolutely need, leave for the movers.”

Stiles slumped. “Fine. I guess I really don't need my trade paperbacks and comics. Or the DVDs. And I suppose I could leave some of my action figures.” 

Noah claps him on the back. “That's my boy.”

“Stiles?”

Stiles and Noah turn at the sound of the timid voice, and find Scott standing at the end of the driveway, looking like a kicked puppy as his eyes move between the packed car and Stiles.

“I'll leave you to it,” Noah says, clapping Stiles on the shoulder again as he turns and heads back into the house. Stiles can't help but notice that he doesn't acknowledge Scott at all.

Stiles tries to do the same, turning back to the car so that he can decide what he thinks he can actually do without for a few months. His dad is right; he really didn't need his DVD collection for now. Besides, his buddy might have at least a Netflix or Hulu account. Hopefully.

“Stiles,” Scott says again and Stiles sighs, taking a minute before he faces his old friend.

“What?”

Scott points at the Jeep – the shiny new black one that will take him to Washington and beyond. “What's going on? What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing, Scott? I'm packing.”

“Why?”

He sighs again. “Well, Scott, I know your big Alpha brain might not grasp this concept, but usually, when a person finishes high school, they pack all of their things and travel to another place for this thing called 'college'.” He puts finger-quotes around the word, because he can be a dick, too, sometimes. “It is now my turn to make that long and noble journey.”

Not Scott looks like a confused puppy that doesn't understand why he's being scolded. He even cocks his head to one side. “But...it's April.”

“Early admission's still a thing, Scott.”

“So you're just...leaving?”

Stiles spreads his arms wide. “What the hell have I got to stick around here for?”

“What about us? What about the pack?”

Stiles can't help it, he laughs, and it sounds harsh and bitter. “Pack? What pack, Scott? The one that abandoned me when I needed it the most?”

“We didn't abandon you, Stiles, we-”

“Oh, no, that's right, you took them away from me!” Stiles' voice is harsh and the words grate as they come out but he carries on regardless. “I was spiraling, Scott, I couldn't deal with the fact that someone was dead because of me. Even though it was self-defense, I was still responsible. And when I needed someone, when I needed my friends to help me though this horrible time, do you know what my best friend in the entire world told me?”

Scott looks pale, like he's about to throw up. “Stiles-”

“He told me I was a _murderer!_ ” Stiles screams. “He told me he believed some lying sack of shit over the person he's known his whole life.”

Scott takes a step forward. “Stiles, I'm sorry. I know what Theo was planning now, and I know what he did to you and I'm sorry, about all of it. But he's getting better and-”

“Oh, my fucking God!” Stiles laughs again. “You're still taking his side! The guy literally tried to kill you and Lydia and tried to steal your pack and you still think he's a good guy!”

“No, Stiles, that's not what I meant. I just think that everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Except me, right, Scott? I don't deserve a second chance for defending myself against a psychopath who wanted nothing more than to kill me and my dad. I just get kicked out of the pack, all my friends taken away from me.”

Scott deflates. “I didn't mean to do that. I wanted you to...to have time to just chill out, I guess. I wanted you to not to have to worry about all of this pack shit, or the next supernatural drama to hit our town. I never meant to say that you needed time away to get better. You don't need to get better, you were never broken. I just meant to give you time to process what had happened.” He sighs, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. 

“What I needed, Scott, was my friends. I needed you to tell me that I didn't do anything wrong. That I had no other choice that night. Instead, all you've told me is that there might have been some other way, like there was time to assess the situation when the homicidal maniac was chasing me down and trying to kill me with his mouth-hands.”

Scott frowns. “His what?”

Stiles pulls at the neck of his Wonder Woman t-shirt until he can expose the shoulder with the scar. “It's what the Dread Doctors did to him. They turned him into a lamprey-wendigo hybrid monster.”

“What's a lamprey?”

“It's like a weird water-worm with a chainsaw for a mouth. You can google it later. The important part about this whole thing is that he was trying to kill me.” Stiles says the words slowly, like he can make Scott understand better if he does. “This wasn't a passive threat, Scott. My life was in actual, serious danger. And you told me I was wrong for saving myself.”

“I didn't know that,” Scott says quietly.

“You would have if you'd talked to me! If you'd let me explain instead of listening to the guy who was literally trying to kill you and steal your pack.”

Scott sighs explosively. “I fucked up so much.”

“Yeah, you did, and you could have prevented a lot of it if you'd just talked to me instead of kicking me out of the pack.”

Scott deflates. “I didn't mean to imply that you were...that you were a murderer.” Stiles can't help but notice that his former best friend almost chokes on the word and he rolls his eyes.

“I can't keep having the same argument with you, Scott. You said what you said, I told you you were wrong, you didn't believe me, and now,” he spreads his arms wide, “here we are.”

“Here we are...where?”

Stiles motions to the Jeep, packed full with almost everything he owns. “The end of the road.”

“Wait, you're really leaving?”

Stiles squints at him. “Why the hell else would I have packed everything I own into this car?”

Scott cringes. “It's not your car; I thought you might have been trying to prove a point or...something...” he trails off at the look on Stiles' face.

“Couple months apart and you still haven't changed a bit, Scotty. You still think the whole world revolves around you. You can't for, one minute, think that someone can do something for a reason that doesn't involve you.”

Scott actually looks hurt by Stiles' words and he has to turn away, bury his head back into the Jeep, because he never could resist those puppy dog eyes, even before the lycanthropy made them even more potent.

“I fucked up so bad,” Scott says again, but he sounds more like he's talking to himself this time so Stiles doesn't bother restating his agreement, just busies himself with picking through his boxes and trying to pretend Scott left already.

The shuffling of feet tells him that Scott's still hanging around for some reason and that reason becomes apparent when he speaks again.

“Can you at least tell me where you're going? You've got your whole bedroom in that car, which makes me think you're not exactly staying in state.”

“I'm not.”

“You're leaving your dad here? Oh, I...I mean, I'll look out for him, okay? You don't have to worry about him, I'll make sure nothing happens to him; he'll be safe.”

“I know he will.”

“Exactly, me and the pack-”

“No, I mean, I know he'll be safe because he's coming with me. We're getting out of the whole supernatural business once and for all.”

Well, a little white lie won't hurt anyone. Well, possible lie. He still doesn't know for sure who exactly is on the other end of those text chats.

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“You...weren't going to tell me, where you?”

“Why should I? You don't tell me anything. Ever. How many times have you come up with some plan that you think will save the day, only to keep the rest of us in the dark and almost destroy the whole thing?”

“Stiles-”

“You clearly didn't miss me these last few months, so why should I think you'd miss me if I left town?”

He finally turns to face Scott again and crumbles, just a little, at the look on his face. He sighs.

“Look, maybe, at some point down the line, we can...try to fix this, but right now, I just need some space. Just like you suggested.”

“You've had space,” Scott says in a small voice. 

“And now I'm going to have a whole lot more, so thanks for the advice.”

“Can you at least tell me where you're going? So that I can come visit or something? I got into UC Irvine. For vet school. Maybe if you're close by, we can catch up or something.”

“I'll think about it,” Stiles mumbles. He's starting to feel guilty due to the fact that Scott is upset. Which is ridiculous, after everything that Scott put him through this last year, he still can't seem to hold onto his anger. He turns his back again, hoping that not being able to look Scott in the eyes will help. “I just want to get away for now. So that I don't have to worry about running into one of you every time I walk down the street. I need to...I need to heal.”

“I told you, Stiles, you don't need to heal, I was wrong!”

Stiles can't help it, he whirls around again. “But I do, Scott. Whether you like it or not, I've done a lot of bad shit for this pack. I've killed people, or at least, I've been responsible for their deaths. I've watched people die right in front of me, one of those people I've known for most of my life. I never dealt with any of that. None of us have. We all just shoved it down and carried on with saving the world. But I need to deal with it. I need to take time away and get my head back on straight. Whether or not that means I'll never come back to Beacon Hills or never see the pack again, I don't know. I'll figure it out when the time comes.”

Scott just stands there and stares at him, and ever with the distance separating them, Stiles can see tears glittering in the Alpha's eyes. He forces himself to look away.

“We never signed on for this,” Scott says, his voice cracking. “I mean, Malia, Kira, maybe even Lydia, they were born like this, they were born into this world. You and me? Liam? We were forced into it without our consent. But the difference between you and me? It's the same reason I tried to tell you at the beginning of the year, when I made such a fuck up of actually saying the words. You're human. You don't have to be a part of this and I should have realized that a long time ago. I'm stuck here. The True Alpha of Beacon Hills. I'm never getting out of here. But you?” He nods towards the direction of the Jeep. “You get into that car, Stiles, and you put this town in your rear-view mirror as fast as legally possible. You and me? We'll be fine, someday. I have to believe that. But for now, you get out of here and do whatever it is that you need to do.”

Before he can stop himself, Stiles rushes forward, embracing Scott in a hug, both of them clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. They are brothers, after all, in all but name, literally been through hell and back together, faced countless nightmares together. And yeah, it hasn't all been plain sailing, things have happened and Stiles...

Well, his packed Jeep, the acceptance letter in the duffle bag on the passenger seat, the room his has waiting in a house in Washington, all of that shows just how much Stiles has changed, how much he needs people who have his back no matter what.

As he pats Scott on the back and turns to walk back into the house, he knows that he will always love Scott. But right now, he has to work on learning how to trust him again.

  
  


  
  


Stiles decides to leave early the next morning – the earlier he can get on the road the better – so he has an early dinner with his dad, showers and is in bed by nine. Which is a miracle in itself. Even after giving up the supernatural life, Stiles can't remember the last time he was tucked up in bed by nine.

Probably before his mom died and his dad got lost in a bottle for a couple years.

He puts that thought away and goes to sleep.

He's jolted out of sleep a few hours later when the bed moves as someone climbs into it.

Stiles rolls over and comes face to face with Malia and he finds that he's not the least bit surprised.

“Scott says your leaving,” the werecoyote says, her voice pitched low in difference to the late hour.

“First thing in the morning,” Stiles replies. “Have to get an early start.”

“You can't be going far if you can drive there.”

He gives her a tight smile and she takes it as the answer it is and rearranges herself onto her side, so that they're lying almost nose to nose on the pillow.

It's so familiar that Stiles' heart aches a little.

“Are you going to college to learn stuff?”

“Yep.”

“What are you gonna learn?”

“Haven't decided yet. Dad thinks I should be some sort of law enforcement, so he's probably thinking I should take law or criminology or something.”

“Is that not what you want?”

“I don't know what I want. But I have time to figure that out.”

“Now that you're getting away from us, you mean.”

Stiles sighs. “I'm not running away from you, Malia. I'm not even running away from Scott, not really. I'm just...tired. I want to live a normal life. Is that so wrong?”

She shakes her head as best she can. “No. But I'll miss you. This place will miss you. You come up with all the best plans.”

Stiles snorts. “Yeah, when Scott actually tells me what's going on and lets me come up with a plan.”

Malia averts her eyes. “Scott says he talked to you.”

“Yeah, he did. Doesn't mean I've changed my mind, though.”

“I didn't mean that, I just...if things between you are okay again, then you don't have to go away for good, right?”

“I told you, it's not really Scott I'm running away from,” Stiles admits softly. 

“Then what are you running away from?” Malia counters, just as softly.

He pauses for a minute, thinking everything over, thinking about everything that's happened since the night they went looking for Laura Hale's body in the woods.

“I don't think I'm running away _from_ anything. I think I'm running _towards_ something, towards a life I would never have if I stay here. And I want that life, Malia. I _deserve_ that life. Is that wrong?”

“No,” she answers with another awkward shake. “I just hope you remember us once in while. We love you, ya know? No matter what.”

“I love you guys, too.”

“Probably don't love Theo.”

Stiles cringes. “I wanna poke that guy with a thousand knives.”

“It might take me a while, but I could probably do that.”

They laugh together and it feels warm and familiar and Stiles' heart feels a little bit lighter when Malia finally leans forward and kisses the tip of his nose.

“Be safe.” 

And then she's up and moving towards the window and Stiles sits up to watch her go.

She pauses on the sill and looks back at him with a smug smile.

“Tell my cousin I said 'hello'.”

And then she's gone before he can even formulate a response.

  
  


  
  


He's up by seven the next morning and on the road by nine. It would have been earlier, but he kept stopped to give his dad more directions for how he was supposed to live for the next few months without him.

He's under no illusions that Noah will actually follow any of Stiles' orders, but it makes him feel better anyway.

His father gives his own set of instructions and Stiles follows them to the letter because he's not an idiot. He pulls in at a rest stop roughly every three hours, uses the bathroom and gets something to eat. He has a longer stop around four, has a decent meal and walks around a little bit before he gets back into the Jeep and drives to the motel he booked for the night.

_**'Have you stopped? Are you sleeping somewhere?'** _

His buddy texts him as soon as he drops his bag by the bathroom door and collapses on the bed. 

_**'How the hell did you expect me to text you back if I was sleeping?'** _

_**'At least tell me you're not texting and driving.'** _

_**'I'm the son of the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, do you have any idea how many of those PSA videos me and Scott had to sit through? If you ever catch me texting and driving, you have my permission to tear my throat out.'** _

_**'With my teeth?'** _

And there it is. Months of texting, only a few hours of driving left separating them, but Stiles finally has his confirmation.

He laughs so hard he rolls of the bed and forgets to text back.

  
  


  
  


He repeats the same pattern the next day, except he skips the big meal. He's already been told that dinner will be waiting for him when he gets in.

Stiles slows down the closer he gets to the address plugged in to his GPS and his heart rate kicks up.

He's not nervous per se, but this is months of planning suddenly coming to fruition and suddenly he doesn't think he's ready.

But then he doesn't have a choice, because he's at the end of the street, idling by the kerb. He can see the house from here, looking huge and imposing and not at all what he was expecting.

So shoot him for picturing an abandoned building.

Stiles' phone chimes with a text and he picks it up from the cup holder, because he's not driving, okay? This doesn't count.

_**'Idiot.'** _

That's all it says, punctuation and everything, and Stiles is desperately wondering if he can be seen from the house.

Taking a deep breath, he puts the Jeep in drive and finishes his journey at ten miles per hour up the middle of the street, before he pulls into a very spacious driveway behind three very fancy cars, one of them freakishly familiar, and a motorcycle that makes Scott's dirt bike look like a child's toy.

Parking on the street his ass.

He sits there for a second, breathing deeply, swallowing down the panic attack that wants to overtake him, before he grabs his overnight bag and gets out of the car.

As soon as the door of the Jeep slams closed, the front door of the house opens and Stiles laughs a little too loudly. Almost hysterically.

He's not at all surprised to see Derek Hale sauntering out onto the front porch, looking more relaxed than Stiles ever seen him, in a dark gray t-shirt, blue jeans worn soft with age and bare feet, but he is incredibly surprised by the three people who follow him.

Cora Hale, Isaac Lahey, and, most shockingly of all, Jackson Whittmore.

“Well, this in appropriately intimidating,” he mocks, but even he notices the way his voice shakes.

“Typical Stilinski, always with the jokes,” Jackson says with a roll of his eyes and Stiles is floored by the familiarity of it all.

“Still a douche, Jackson,” Stiles retorts and Isaac laughs, his eyes flitting between the two of them.

Stiles can't help the adoring looks he gives the four of them, even if Jackson keeps rolling his eyes every five seconds. But the thing is, everything started going to shit when these guys started leaving town – seeing the four of them together in one place is causing flashbacks to that one, shining moment when they might have actually made a decent pack.

Speaking of...

“So, three werewolves and a Jackson – ”

“Eat shit, Stiles,” Jackson spits, causing everyone to laugh.

“But how does a pack like this work without an Alpha?” The group shuffles and Stiles can see Isaac hiding a grin and he groans and glares at Derek. “Seriously? Again?”

Derek just smirks at him for a few seconds before he flashes familiar blue eyes, and Stiles feels a guilty sense of relief.

Derek as the Alpha had not been a fun time.

Then another thought hits him. “If Jackson Whittmore is your Alpha, I'm getting back into that Jeep and driving back to Beacon Hills right now. I'd rather deal with that Alpha who hates me than this one.”

“I swear to God, Stiles, I will find a locker and shove you in it if you don't-”

Isaac shoves Jackson off the porch. “Three minutes around Stiles and you turn back to your old, douchy ways. Knock it off.”

“What can I say? He brings it out in me.” Jackson smiles at him like a predator.

No, like a Disney villain. All bark and no bite.

“Enough, the three of you,” Cora says, her voice ringing with authority and that's when Stiles sees it, the way she carries herself, the way the other three seem to defer to her, even though she hasn't actually said all that much, and Stiles smiles.

“Apparently,” Derek says, pride in his voice, “the Hale women handle the mantle of Alpha better than the men.”

Now Cora's grin in predatory if Stiles ever saw one and her eyes flash crimson.

“I thought you went back to your old pack in South America?” Stiles can't help but ask. He can't imagine the Cora he knew challenging her Alpha and then abandoning the rest of the pack to move to Seattle of all places.

“I did,” she explains, cutting off his gloomy thoughts, “we were attacked a few months later by another pack from just over the border. A kid cornered me in an alley with a gun. I took a couple rounds in the stomach and thigh before I went for the throat. I felt it as soon as the light went out of his eyes. They were trying to hide the Alpha spark. They took down their old Alpha and made a poor high school kid kill him, thinking that, when they attacked us, they wouldn't lose that spark if their fighters were beaten. Or, if one of them manged to kill my Alpha, they'd have the old Alpha's spark, too.”

Stiles snorts, disgusted. “Someone's been taking lesson's from Deucalian.”

“That's what I said!” Isaac exclaims.

Jackson crosses his arms over his chest. “Their plan probably would have worked if they'd kept the kid hidden.” He looks defensive, like he can't handle thinking what might have happened if Cora had never become an Alpha. _His_ Alpha.

Derek, on the other hand, looks guilty, like he's thinking about the past. “But we've all seen what the Alpha spark can do to people.”

All four men snort. 

“Yeah,” Cora agrees, “it went to his head. Figured, if he used guns, if he didn't shift, he could keep the fact that he was the Alpha a secret. But apparently, none of them knew how to get their hands on wolfsbane bullets and I was able to fight through the pain. And thank God for that.”

“Nah, you're Cora Hale. You would have been able to take him out anyway,” Isaac says with a grin and Stiles has to bite down on a smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Derek doing the same, so at least he wasn't the only one seeing it.

Cora's blushing when she picks up her story again. “Anyway, once their Alpha was down and they were suddenly facing two, they split pretty quick, leaving a hell of a mess behind them.”

“Two Alphas don't fit in one pack,” Stiles guesses.

Cora shrugs. “My Alpha, Matías, he was nice about it, but yeah, not gonna happen. I left and a couple months later, I heard this guy,” she quirks a thumb at her brother, “had finally done the right thing and put Beacon Hills in his rear view, so I gave him a call.”

Stiles nods, suddenly understanding. “So that's why Braeden came back without you.”

“I figured she'd wind up back there anyway, might has well use her to get the phone to you, make sure you were alright.” Derek just shrugs. “She won't stop until the Desert Wolf is dead.”

“Consider her retired, then,” Stiles tells him and Derek nods in what looks like admiration. 

He turns back to Cora. “So this is it? You're gonna take in Beacon Hills' rejects and make a pack out of that?”

“It's been working so far. And we need an Emissary.”

Stiles chokes on his own tongue. “An...are you crazy?! Do I look like Deaton to you? When have you ever known me to be enigmatic and vague?”

“We're hoping that if you take the job, it'll teach you to talk less.” 

“Aw, admit it, Jackson, you've missed the sound of my sweet voice.”

Another roll of the former kanima's eyes. “I'd sooner listen to Isaac scrape his claws on a chalkboard.”

“Love you, too, Blue Eyes.”

“Hey, come on, answer the question,” Cora says impatiently and Stiles shoots her a cheeky grin.

“I'm sorry, was there a question buried in there somewhere?”

Now it's the Alpha's turn to roll her eyes. “ Mieczyslaw Stilinski, would you do me the great honor of becoming the Emissary of the Hale Pack of Seattle?”

The smile on Stiles' face is blinding, even to him, and he can see it reflected in the faces of the people in front of him, much to Jackson's reluctance.

“Sweet!” He claps his hands. “When do we start? You know I came up here for college, right?”

“We're all in college, dumbass,” Isaac informs him.

“Will figure out the logistics of everything later,” Cora says, “let's just get you moved in first.” She clicks her fingers and Isaac and Jackson jump to attention, running over to the jeep and pulling out Stiles' stuff.

This is looking like a more of a traditional pack that Scott could ever run.

Shaking his head, Stiles takes a step back and looks up at the house. It's big, huge, even, plenty of room for all five of them without them living on top of one and other. It's not what Stiles had envisioned, when he accepted the invitation from a nameless person on the other end of a text message. But this could be better. This is the chance to be part of a real pack; a chance to help a _build_ a real pack, one with solid foundations, filled with people who chose to be around each other.

It's more than he could have asked for really.

Cora starts helping the boys and the three of them disappear inside the house, leaving Stiles and Derek standing on the porch.

It's about a subtle as Malia.

“We found a condo for your dad a few streets away,” Derek says after a few minutes of awkward silence.

Stiles frowns. “He's not coming up for another few months.”

“Yeah, but this place was nice and close by. We figured he wouldn't want to live with a bunch of kids he doesn't really know, no matter how temporary it would be. So we got it while it was available.”

Stiles blinks. “You...you bought my dad a house?”

“A condo,” Derek answers, like that makes it better. “We thought, he wouldn't want a big house at this point in his life, finally getting rid of you.”

“Hey!”

“But it's a two bedroom, so if he wants to have someone to stay, he can. It's fairly spacious, but still a big step down from your old house. I hope he'll like it okay.”

“Once he finds out you paid for it, he's gonna freak more over that than the size of the place,” Stiles says. “He'll probably try to pay you rent.”

Derek smirks and starts to turn back towards the house. “And if it comes to that, I'll charge him the lowest amount I can get away with and put it all into your bank account for college.”

“You're a real asshole, you know that?” Stiles says, because he can't come up with anything else. Because this is ridiculous. 

_Derek_ is ridiculous.

The werewolf pulls him out of the way as Jackson comes barreling towards the front door with two boxes precariously balanced, propelled by his own momentum.

“There's breakables in there, dickwad!”

Somehow, Jackson still manages to flip him off.

“You know, this is starting to look more and more like a bad idea by the minute.”

“No it doesn't.”

Stiles turns back to face Derek and smiles. “No. No, it doesn't.”

  
  


End

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  



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